EDEH Chapter 118

“007, help me pull up all related materials and audio about the rift depths, including folk rumors.”

 

“Alright, searching now.” 007 quickly responded: “Search complete, printing now.”

 

007 was like a super brain, storing everything related to human civilization.

 

All usable documents and recorded images lost during the meteor season could be recovered from it—perhaps history’s greatest recovery of lost items.

 

Other high-ranking officials also wanted to meet 007, but Huo Yanji refused.

 

Suddenly, as the old general had said, gossip spread again—saying he wanted to become a second council, even wanting to monopolize supreme power alone.

 

Huo Yanji wasn’t angry, nor did he compromise.

 

For him, knowing what he wanted to do and walking in that direction was enough—other things weren’t important.

 

But actually, humanity’s current “supreme power” belonged to 007.

 

It continued observing everyone’s movements, including Huo Yanji’s behavior. What Huo Yanji possessed was only underground city authority, not ownership of 007.

 

Once data calculations showed Huo Yanji’s words and actions were out of control, 007 could still find ways to replace him or find others to balance him.

 

Of course, outsiders didn’t know this.

 

The little evil dragon very much hoped Huo Yanji would be “replaced”—then he could abduct Ji Ji away.

 

In many fairy tales, evil dragons were villains wanting gold coins, gems, princesses, or to attack kingdoms. But Sang Jue just wanted a wife and couldn’t even be satisfied in that.

 

Too annoying.

 

The nearby machine made “swoosh swoosh” printing sounds. Materials about the rift depths were pitifully few. Even adding those lost during the meteor season, it was only a thin stack that could be read in half an hour.

 

Huo Yanji roughly scanned through once—all things he already knew, nothing new, so he sent the materials to the research institute. Professional matters still needed professional people to handle.

 

There were many other issues waiting to be resolved. Though the rebel crisis was temporarily lifted, public security in all major safe zones remained chaotic, and new order departments had to be established as soon as possible.

 

Besides this, they needed to build entirely new “offspring breeding” facilities with extremely strict conditions. Just finding uncontaminated, sterile land was a major problem.

 

Reopening and purifying land would take too long, and safety couldn’t be guaranteed before rebels were completely eliminated.

 

Looking across all safe zones, only the main city could barely spare land.

 

But the main city’s previously fallen areas were still under reconstruction, and facing such large construction projects, not only was labor completely insufficient, but resources were also severely scarce.

 

They could only temporarily delay construction of outdoor aid stations and recall all personnel. Currently, only the aid station built with Deputy Song’s participation was perfectly completed.

 

Huo Yanji called an emergency high-level meeting at dawn.

 

Huo Yanji’s military rank wasn’t the highest, and other districts had high-level officials with equal authority, but given what he currently controlled and his prestige that had reached the pinnacle in people’s hearts, whether they accepted it or not, most had already tacitly acknowledged his absolute right to speak.

 

Huo Yanji said slowly: “Our first priority now is building an environment for infant and toddler births. Ideally completed within a year, at latest two years.”

 

“Two years? Too tight, isn’t it?”

 

Everyone frowned and discussed: “Where do we have so much manpower? Materials are also a problem, not something that can be solved short-term.”

 

Huo Yanji said calmly: “The survival rate of newborns in the underground city has been dropping year by year. There can be at most a two-year gap in population. Next, everyone must participate in construction, starting high-intensity labor to have hope.”

 

The old general asked: “Do you have a plan?”

 

Huo Yanji picked up a remote and pressed it. A picture appeared on the big screen at the front of the meeting room—an architectural prototype blueprint.

 

“This is the architectural prototype for the artificial womb installation site. Everyone can offer good suggestions. The prototype designer is Deputy Song Li. Based on Dr. Anya’s concepts from the Wastewater Research Heights a hundred years ago, this building is named ‘Eden.'”

 

Everyone had no objections to this name—it was indeed very fitting.

 

Huo Yanji’s inspiration for the name came from what Sang Jue had said about two cats named “Adam” and “Eve” at the former research institute.

 

Back then, Dr. Anya should have already been preparing for the Nuwa Plan a hundred years later.

 

Huo Yanji slowly outlined his plan with clear logic: “Our preliminary preparations require four things.”

 

“First, encourage citizens in all major safe zones to donate sperm and eggs; second, mobilize one to five percent of labor force from each major safe zone to the main city; third, gather elites from all major research institutes to mass-produce artificial wombs while building Eden.”

 

On both sides of the long table, everyone whispered briefly, then said: “Isn’t five percent of labor force too much?”

 

It sounded like a small percentage—at most five out of a hundred people.

 

But note that Huo Yanji spoke of labor force percentage, not population percentage, which was quite a lot.

 

Huo Yanji lifted his eyelids: “In special times, all survivors are collective. We must concentrate all strength and direct it at one target, otherwise we’ll face destruction within ten years at most—this isn’t for some future dawn.”

 

“Even so, manpower is still insufficient, right?” Having been confronted earlier tonight, Ling Gen’s expression wasn’t good: “We need to clear such a large area for construction, so people living here must be relocated elsewhere. We just lost so many districts and have nowhere to place them—we must wait for reconstruction. Also, resources and materials are problems requiring manpower and time to find and produce, and people below still need to eat and live…”

 

“So this is the fourth thing we need to prepare.” Huo Yanji said: “Since the underground city can no longer serve as a place for nurturing life, continuing to house millions of residents there serves no purpose.”

 

The old general understood: “You mean having them participate in construction labor?”

 

An uproar broke out below: “Is this feasible? They’ve lived in the underground city for generations, accustomed to that pampered lifestyle. Suddenly making them work…”

 

Huo Yanji shot a cold glance: “Minister Gofo, watch your words!”

 

The only female high-ranking official present was the general director of safe zone planning and construction departments. Usually quiet, she looked up and scoffed: “If Minister Gofo thinks that’s a pampered life, why not transplant a uterus and retire down there? I’ll pay the expenses.”

 

“…” Gofo’s face darkened.

 

Though such remarks were despicable, many high-ranking officials thought this way, and civilians below inevitably would too.

 

We risk our lives on the surface while you eat and drink well underground just breeding offspring—what’s wrong with that?

 

Huo Yanji said: “Settling underground city residents is something we must face, considering public reactions and their possible futures.”

 

Just thinking about it, their future wouldn’t be good. Without ability to survive outdoors or elite-level skills, their prospects weren’t hard to imagine.

 

If there was still time, they could stay in the underground city for technical training, but humanity had no time left.

 

“This sounds cruel, but the apocalypse can’t accommodate worthless people.” Huo Yanji said calmly: “To gain respect and integrate with surface residents, they must demonstrate value. Labor force is the lowest-cost and safest way to show value.”

 

Everyone fell silent. Anyone with reason knew Huo Yanji made perfect sense—irrefutable.

 

Huo Yanji changed topics: “But women over forty-three don’t need to come to the surface.”

 

Minister Gofo asked: “Why?”

 

“The average lifespan of women in the underground city is forty-seven years.” Huo Yanji glanced at him. “Only ten years higher than the average thirty-year loss of control age for deviants.”

 

“…”

 

The old general was well aware of these statistics. His gray pupils were dark and unclear as he said: “Anything else?”

 

Having finished the most important matters, Huo Yanji gradually outlined the underground city retirement plan. Though it sounded somewhat idealistic, these were all things to consider after the major safe zones entered a proper development track.

 

Not urgent for now, and everyone didn’t need to think through this proposal so quickly.

 

Honestly, if so many incidents hadn’t occurred recently, the old general, being an ordinary person, could have already returned to the underground city to live out his twilight years peacefully.

 

The meeting continued until dawn. The thunderstorm was still ongoing, and some reconstruction work in the rebuilt blocks had to be temporarily postponed—the rain was simply too heavy.

 

Though it was morning, the sky was a dull yellow, pressing low above the main city. Even the lighthouse beacon’s light was shrouded by clouds, creating an oppressive atmosphere that made breathing difficult.

 

The old general stood on the steps, exhaling deeply while looking toward Rift No. 2: “With such heavy rain, I wonder if it can flow into the underground.”

 

They couldn’t help Huo Jiangmian’s situation at all—they could only anxiously wait for communications while leaving things to fate.

 

Yet everything on the surface still needed to proceed normally; survival had to continue.

 

Huo Yanji said nothing, seemingly unconcerned about Huo Jiangmian.

 

He turned back to address the group of high-ranking officials led by the old general: “It’s been all night. Everyone should rest early.”

 

He opened a black umbrella and walked down the steps alone. Raindrops on the ground quickly soaked his pant cuffs.

 

The upright figure in black military uniform merged into the gray rain curtain. Though fierce winds lifted his coat tails, the silhouette with the black umbrella remained straight yet lonely.

 

Many watched for a while before dispersing one by one.

 

Only Ling Gen and the old general remained.

 

Before Ling Gen could speak, the old general said: “Don’t touch Sang Jue until the last moment, regardless of who he is or what his identity might be.”

 

“Why?” Ling Gen pressed. “Do you know something?”

 

“What I know doesn’t matter.” The rain was too heavy for the umbrella to block effectively.

 

The old general zipped up his raincoat and got into the car under soldier escort. Through the car window, he said to Ling Gen on the steps: “Don’t break the heart of someone who supports a collapsing edifice.”

 

…

 

In the manor, Sang Jue was crouching in a corner despite the storm, seriously working on something.

 

Footsteps gradually approached from behind. Sang Jue didn’t turn around: “You’re back.”

 

Huo Yanji asked: “What are you doing?”

 

Sang Jue said: “Practicing carving characters. I want to carve words on the doctor’s tombstone.”

 

The little evil dragon’s voice was very low. From his expression, he seemed to have moved past the sadness of the doctor’s death.

 

If that were true, it would be good.

 

Huo Yanji moved the umbrella over to his side and bent down to pick up several ruined stone pieces: “Not bad, progressing quickly.”

 

Sang Jue earnestly hummed: “I am a genius after all.”

 

“…” Huo Yanji said: “Carve more this afternoon. Come sleep with me for a while.”

 

Sang Jue looked up, frowning slightly: “It’s eight o’clock now. Can we only sleep until afternoon?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “There are many things to handle recently.”

 

In this collapsed world, among tens of millions of survivors, no one cared whether Huo Yanji was tired—only one little monster cared.

 

In bed, Huo Yanji whispered coaxingly: “Squeeze with your tail once.”

 

“Okay…”

 

His wife was so tired; using his tail to help her fall asleep wasn’t a big deal.

 

…

 

While storms raged on the surface, not a drop of water could be heard in the rift’s depths.

 

This seemed like a soundless world without even wind, silent to a terrifying degree.

 

Many of their companions had already disappeared—silently, without any commotion.

 

“From now on, count off every ten minutes.” Those with strong minds could still maintain rationality. Huo Jiangmian said in a low voice: “Starting with me: one.”

 

“Two.”

 

“Three.”

 

“Four.”

 

“…”

 

“Eighty-seven.”

 

Someone said: “Old Mac is gone!!!”

 

Huo Jiangmian frowned and walked back a few steps, but suddenly felt something was wrong. Looking back, he shouted sternly: “Everyone stop moving!”

 

The agitated, fearful crowd stopped. Huo Jiangmian raised his hand and began counting people manually.

 

One, two, three… eighty-six, eighty-seven… eighty-eight.

 

He counted again. Including himself, there were eighty-eight people total.

 

Huo Jiangmian asked coldly: “Who didn’t count off just now?”

 

Everyone looked at each other, all claiming they had counted.

 

But clearly there was one extra person.

 

So deep underground, they all wore protective suits, carried oxygen tanks, and wore masks. Except for height differences, they all looked nearly identical—indistinguishable from real or fake.

 

In the flickering light of flint lamps, they looked like people, yet also like ghosts.

 

**

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